Denouement
by Abrae
Summary: Severus receives a gentle reminder of what he has to lose. Written for the 2011 Secret Snarry fest for Lelek.


Written for the 2011 Secret Snarry fest for Lelek.

Summary/Prompt: First snow of the year; From Captain Corelli's Mandolin: "Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don't blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident."; Holiday Snarry icons would also be fab.

A/N: Two out of three ain't bad. I'm very grateful to the lovely Alisanne for her kind beta!

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><p>"Professor."<p>

Severus Snape looked up from his infirmary bed to find Harry Potter - for the fourth time in as many days - staring at a point just above his head.

"Mr. Potter."

When no more words seemed to be forthcoming, Snape returned his attention to the book in his lap.

Harry cleared his throat, but still his voice was unsteady.

"Would you - " he began, clearing his throat again. "Would you tell me about my mother?"

Snape slowly closed his eyes.

A few moments later, he closed the covers of his book and began to speak.

* * *

><p>In the days when escape had been easy, when the cool peace of his dungeons beckoned like a promise at the end of the day, his calculated distance had been second nature. Contrary to popular opinion, Snape was neither cold nor cruel, but careful. His heart was stratified in concentric circles of closeness: a brittle shell of enemies surrounding a mass of Hogwarts pupils that formed a thick, protective layer of indifference. At the center, a molten core of few friends and no family. He went to pains to keep these rings separated and, for the most part, he succeeded.<p>

Only Potter, that terrifying butterfly of a boy, had the ability - and the audacity - to flit thoughtlessly between them. It was his nature, Severus supposed, given his parentage. From the inconceivable union of his closest friend and one of his worst enemies had risen his own chimera: a horrific hybrid of lion and serpent that at once repelled and attracted him. While he remained a child, Severus had little difficulty in keeping the boy at arm's length, and if he seemed to single out Potter for abuse, well, he was content to let people think it the result of a fifteen-year grudge. As long as he stayed a student - James Potter's son - the Boy-Who-Lived - as long as he was just an idea, Severus could keep him contained.

But the boy - no, the man - who had come to him in the aftermath of the war was no abstraction to be willed away through clever epithets. However much he might have wanted to retreat to the comfort of labels, Potter's actions at the end of the war - the horrific choices he had made with nary a second thought - had rendered Severus curiously hesitant to resurrect the old status quo.

So it was that, as the reluctant reminisces of summertime flowed into eighth-year confidences and eventually settled into collegial companionship, Harry quietly dismantled the framework of misconceptions and willful misinformation upon which Severus had built his notion of the boy he had been. By the beginning of Harry's third year as Hogwarts' resident Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, it was no longer uncommon to find two black heads bent together over a shared newspaper; no longer strange to glimpse the gleam that shone in Severus's eyes as he watched Harry duel hapless students and unwitting comers alike; no longer startling to see the broad smile that illuminated Harry's face whenever he spied Severus across the Great Hall. Visitors mistook them for lovers, and if friends sometimes watched them with wistful eyes, they never said anything that might disturb a friendship so clearly good for both.

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><p>Autumn crispness gave way to the chill of an early Winter, and with it came the peace of year-end holidays. Harry had tried to coax Severus into a night of merriment at the Burrow, but, openly disdainful and privately anxious about his welcome, he had chosen to stay behind. Nonetheless, the nascent sociability born of his association with gregarious Harry had left him uninterested in being sequestered deep in his dungeon rooms, and so a bitterly cold Christmas Eve found Severus sitting alone in the light of the staff room fireplace.<p>

As he sat silently musing, warm oranges and yellows dancing in his eyes, he heard a shuffle of feet and looked up to find the new Charms Professor, late of Beauxbatons Academy, standing in the doorway.

"Good evening, Severus," he said, insinuating himself in a plush chair next to the Potions Master.

"Professor LeBeau." Severus gave him a clipped nod and returned his attention to the fire.

"May I speak with you?" LeBeau asked a moment later, continuing in his softly accented English, "It is my understanding that you are well acquainted with Professor Potter, _non_?"

Severus's eyes narrowed slightly. "I am."

"Forgive my bluntness, but do you know - that is, are you aware of any claim on Professor Potter's affections?"

Ah - he had expected something like this. Severus was not insensitive to Harry's physical appeal, and on more than one occasion he had noted a certain glimmer of appreciation in LeBeau's eyes as well.

"I am not," he replied as the warmth of the fire sent a flush across his face.

LeBeau studied Severus for a long moment.

"I see," he continued undeterred. "So may I understand that there is no one who would object should I pursue Professor Potter myself?"

It was the cold - it had to be a wayward draft - that sent a chill through Severus, who answered gruffly, "Of course."

LeBeau nodded to himself. "_C'est bon_. It's simply - I had thought that, perhaps..." he paused, his eyes combing over Severus's closed expression.

"Perhaps?" Severus sneered with a coolness he did not feel.

LeBeau smiled softly, glancing down. "Forgive me. I had assumed that, perhaps, you yourself were in love with him."

Severus let out a bitter laugh, ignoring the way his heart leapt at the words. "Professor LeBeau," he muttered darkly. "I had 'in love' burned out of me before you were born."

"_Certes_, Professor. Only, I fancied I saw something in your eyes - a hunger, if you will - when in his presence. As if - _mais non_. If you assure me that it is not so, I cannot but believe you."

"It is not so," Severus stated flatly.

The fire crackled between them in the silence that ensued, but to Severus's mind its warmth had drained away, leaving only an empty stone-coldness. He pointedly turned away from his companion, staring into the darkness of a far corner as if searching for something he could not name.

And still LeBeau persisted.

"You will not mind, then," he continued, his gaze squarely on Severus, "when our dear _professeur_ is no longer as attentive to you as he has been? When his eyes do not seek out yours in a crowded room? When the little jokes and pleasantries between you are no more?"

Severus heard the words, but he could not comprehend them.

"When he does not turn to you for advice or conversation? When his body -" and Severus turned, his eyes caught in LeBeau's glittering gaze "- no longer warms yours with its closeness? These things, they will be of no consequence to you?"

Severus considered this life without Harry, and he had no words to express the bleakness it evoked.

LeBeau continued, his voice a mere murmur. "Because, my dear Severus, I have seen the hunger in Harry's eyes as well, and it has been for you. You may not be in love with one another, but I believe there is love between you." He stood up to leave, turning to face Severus. "I will ask once more," he said. "Is there anyone who may lay claim to Professor Potter's affections?"

Severus slowly rose to his feet, his consternation clear in the open glance he gave LeBeau. "I cannot say," he confessed. "But...there is one whose affections he might claim, should he so desire."

LeBeau nodded solemnly. "Then he should know."

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><p>Minerva McGonagall hurried down a windswept corridor, her sights fixed on the warmth of her private rooms. As she passed by the inner courtyard she spied Severus standing silently outside, his eyes following the path of swirling flakes that marked the first snowfall of the season. She paused long enough to see his solitude broken by young Harry, who stealthily approached Severus from behind and draped a black winter cloak over his shoulders, grinning broadly when the older man whirled around in surprise. Harry reached up to fasten the clasp of Severus's cloak, then seamlessly dove into his own to pull a small wrapped package from its depths, presenting it to Severus with a shy smile and flushed cheeks that were echoed in the pink of Severus's own face. He opened the box and his eyes lit in pleasure at what he discovered inside; but this expression was a wan reflection of the look that next suffused his face, when Harry placed a hand on his arm and said softly, "Happy Christmas, Severus."<p>

They stood this way for a moment; and when no more words seemed forthcoming, Harry moved as though to leave. Minerva saw, more than heard, Severus's small gasp as he grasped Harry's hand in his own and stepped close, his cloak brushing against Harry's as they swayed in tandem. Severus took a deep, shuddering breath - searched Harry's own questioning eyes - then leaned close and pressed his lips lightly to Harry's, pulling back once before slowly wrapping his arms around the young man's waist and pulling him close in a lingering kiss.

If the kiss came as no surprise to Minerva, her own reaction did: where she had anticipated amused exasperation that it had taken the pair this long to confess feelings she had suspected for years, she instead found herself whipping out a handkerchief to dab at the traitorous tears that filled her eyes as Harry's arms reached up to encircle Severus's neck. When they broke their kiss to nuzzle gently against one another, oblivious both to cold and the steadily falling snow, she turned away and continued on silently towards her destination.

Minerva arrived in her rooms to find the Hogwarts' Charms professor lounging on the settee, legs crossed and an expectant expression on his face.

"Marius," she began, a shrewd glint in her eyes. "What exactly did you say to Severus?"

LeBeau shrugged and gave her a self-effacing smile. "I simply showed him what he might miss, were Professor Potter to transfer his affections to someone else."

Minerva approached LeBeau, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Well, whatever you said, it worked," she murmured.

Minerva took a seat beside LeBeau, allowing his arm to steal around her shoulders and pull her close. A frisson of pleasure coursed through her as LeBeau whispered roughly in her ear, "And now, my dear lady, however will you repay me?"

-The End-


End file.
